


Four

by vaguesalvation



Category: Jrock, the GazettE
Genre: Dark, Drug Use, Gen, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguesalvation/pseuds/vaguesalvation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He only wants to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains mention and discussion of suicide and major character death. Also, there is brief mention of prescription drug abuse.

i. i love you, baby, but it will take more than that to keep me going.

 

His hands shake uncontrollably.

It isn’t particularly cold, but his trembling doesn’t have anything to do with the weather on this early March morning. He lets his head fall back to feel the quiet rain on his face. The drops fall gently on his cheeks, flooding his hollow eyes until his vision of the sky above is blurred, distorted.

He doesn’t need to see it to know it’s there.

And with a courage borne from acceptance, he lets his foot slip over the edge.

 

ii. bright cities blind me, and burned cities cry.

And then there were four.

Yutaka is the first to find out, but then, in Takanori’s absence, Yutaka is always the first to find out. Always the most connected, the most intuitive.

In Takanori’s absence, he has to remind himself now.

He meets Kouyou’s eyes over the table. Between them lay the two empty pill bottles. And he hates the drugs, hates the cover they had let them all hide behind, the perceived safety.

Mostly, he hates himself in that moment.

He feels completely out of his body when he shakes his head solemnly, refusing to echo the choked sob that fights its way past the normally stoic guitarist’s vocal chords.

 

iii. i remember nights of passion, i remember days of joy.

Akira, for all his perceived naiveté and outward immaturity, is not a stupid man.

He knows what to expect when he answers his door, knows that behind it will most likely be his beautifully wrapped death. He coaxes the deadbolt free and takes a second to collect his thoughts. The effort is fruitless. He hasn’t been able to quiet his mind for hours now.

Yuu is every bit as beautiful as he remembers, and his arms around Akira’s waist when the bassist finds he is unable to keep himself upright are familiar.

This isn’t the end, but it certainly feels like dying.

 

iv. you’ve got the looks to kill, and the silence to keep me praying.

They spend the night wrapped together on a bed that is far too small for all of them. They don’t talk, they don’t laugh, they don’t reminisce. Though Yuu feels maybe they should, if only to keep memories alive.

Because memories are all they have left now, even if it’s too early for any of them to fully accept.

He’s always seen himself as a realist though, and so he likes to think acceptance isn’t a step he’s working toward. That kind of optimism would go against his nature.

But as he turns on his side, sees the way Akira and Kouyou are lying silent next to him, heads bowed together, as if communicating solely through their locked eyes, Yuu thinks maybe it’s time he starts to climb.

 

v. my hand reaches, but you are miles down that road.

The funeral is huge, to put it simply. He expected that. He did.

What he didn’t expect was to see three familiar, but unwelcome faces sitting in the front row.

“You don’t belong here.”

For the first real words any of them have spoke in the last three days, Kouyou couldn’t think of any that would have been more honest. He’s strangely proud of Akira, even as he wraps his hand around the bassist’s arm to steer him away.

It wouldn’t do to upset the family now, with their youngest child being lowered into the ground, in a burial plot that did not have their name written across it.

 

vi. i am content to know you will remain a shadow.

The waves lick at their toes, cold, salty water against soft skin. They watch the ocean with their backs to the city, and for the first time they do not feel betrayed by bright lights and countless, bustling bodies. They feel comforted, oddly, that there is still life behind them, ahead of them, surrounding them.

They only need to turn to each other to find it.

In a way, they agree that this is not as bad as it could have been.

Takanori was no more selfish than the rest of them.

“I want to fly.” Yutaka says cryptically from beside Yuu, but he knows he doesn’t need to elaborate.

He knows the others will follow him into the water, will soak their funeral clothes completely through until they are weighed down by the wet fabric.

He says the words over in his head, but they do not feel heavy, do not feel so much like a burden.

They do not feel so much like a few hastily scribbled letters on a suicide note.


End file.
